Wreck of the Day
by hyacinthian
Summary: Mark and Addison and Derek through the years. [MarkAddison]


**Track 01. Breathe (2 AM)**

_Two a.m. and she calls me 'coz I'm still awake  
"Can you help me unravel my latest mistake?  
I don't love him.  
Winter just wasn't my season…"_

There's a slight pinging sound one night. He wakes up, throws the comforter off of himself, and stares blearily into the cold numbers of his digital clock. 2:00 a.m. Exactly. He mumbles angrily as he tries to find the source of the noise.

"Mark!" he hears. "Mark!" Someone is screaming his name. Someone who sounds emotionally unstable at the moment, and who obviously has no sense of time and no sense of what he does to people who interrupt his sleep. He trudges towards the window and pushes it open. A small pebble hits his face. "Sorry!" It helps though. Despite the slight indentation on his face, at least he's awake now.

"Addison?" He can barely make out her form from the second floor of the dorm, but he can tell by the way she's dressed, and by the way her hair whips around her in the wind. "Can I come up?" she asks. She sounds like she's been crying, so he ignores his body's complaints for warmth and sleep.

"Yeah." Pulling on a t-shirt and grabbing a key to avoid getting locked out, he sprints down to open the door for her. She walks in, hair tangled from the wind, face pink from the cold, snowflakes caught in her hair.

"Hey," she says, softly.

"Hey," he replies. She follows him up to his dorm room, silent the entire way. He doesn't seek to pry, doesn't say or do anything. He knows that she'll talk when she's ready to, and his roommate drenched his insides with enough liquor to knock out a llama. So they'll be fine. Privacy isn't an issue.

She hangs up her coat and hat, and toes off her shoes. Grabbing his hand, she pulls him into the bathroom and locks it. "Addison, what…" he begins, but she doesn't say anything. Merely flings her weary body into the bathtub, long legs dangling over the side. She sighs, and he can hear the tiredness and the frustration in her voice. She hums a little, and he can see the tears start to form in her eyes again.

"Mark, I…"

"Addison," he starts. "What happened?"

"How, um, how are you?" she asks. He quickly answers the question. "Are you sure? How was Mercer today?"

"He's the same. He'll be an ass until the day he dies." She smiles at him and offers a sympathetic chuckle. "But you didn't come to talk to me about Mercer, did you?"

"Well…" She toys with the fabric of her shirt.

"Because then, I'd have to say, first of all, Addison, it's two in the morning. And Mercer does not merit a conversation about him at two in the morning. Even if it's just me bitching about him. Second of all, Mercer isn't the one who made you cry. And if it was, just let me know."

She chuckles softly again, the tears falling silently onto her cheeks. "Derek and I…" She takes a breath, and he can hear the slight gasps of her trying to restrain her tears. "Derek and I broke up." Having said it, she breaks into another fit of crying. He shifts closer to her, and rubs at her back.

"What?"

She nods. "Yeah. It—It was over something s-stupid too." She starts sobbing, and he thinks maybe he should go in the other room and grab the box of tissues. Instead, he opts to reach for the spare roll of toilet paper, plopping it down in front of her. She tries to smile, and tears off a long sheet, before wiping at her eyes and blowing her nose.

"What happened, Addie?"

She offers a slight chuckle and looks straight into his eyes. "We were—we were arguing about where to go for Christmas," she says, the tears dripping noisily onto her cheeks. "He wanted to go up to Connecticut, and I wanted to go see my parents."

"And you broke up because of that?"

"Well, I—I think that it was about something—deeper."

"Deeper?"

"I—" She pauses, breaking into tears. "This is so wrong of me, Mark." He tries to console her by rubbing her back, and her tears stop for a bit.

"What is it?"

"Derek and I have been together for a long time," she says. _Don't I know it_, he thinks. "And we were talking about maybe one day getting married and settling down." His heart pulls in his chest.

"Yeah?"

"And I—I don't even know if I love him." She begins to sob again, laying her head against his shoulder and shaking. "I love him, but I don't know if I'm in love with him. Derek and I…we—we're good, but I don't know if true love is supposed to feel like this."

He holds her head against his shoulder, tucking her hair behind her ear and massaging her shoulder. "It'll work, Addie. You and Derek are good together. And you love him. It's just—you're getting at that point in a relationship when you question. It happens."

She sits up, looking at him through her tears. "And how would you know, Mr. Commitment-Phobic?" He doesn't think she means for it to sound mean, but it's barbed enough to sting him.

"I've had a few relationships."

She turns and reverts back to her situation. "And now, it's just—we've broken up, and he went to go visit his family, and I don't know where we stand."

"Addie, I'm sure everything will be okay." She tilts her head up towards his, eyes full of hope.

"You think so?"

"Mark, it's just that I—I don't know…" She pauses, her eyes meeting his with warmth, the tears dried on her cheeks, drawing herself closer to him. "…what…to…do." And her lips touch his with a gentleness that surprises him. He doesn't turn away, but leans into it, and she wraps her arms around him. When they pull away, she's flushed.

"Addison, what are we doing?"

"Nothing," she says, punctuating it with a kiss. "We're not doing anything." She kisses him again, deeper, more thoroughly. "We're just friends." She pulls his t-shirt over his head and tosses it in a corner.

"Friends?" he mumbles into the flesh of her neck, his fingers deftly unbuttoning her blouse.

"Yeah," she murmurs, throwing her head back when he unclasps her bra. "Chalk it up to good ol' holiday spirit." She groans when his head captures her breast. She stands, and he leads her out of the tub, pushing her back up against the sink. He drops to his knees and pulls off her pants and panties. He pushes two fingers inside her and her eyes flutter shut. "Fuck, Mark, what are we doing?"

"Nothing," he echoes, as he pumps his fingers in her. "Absolutely nothing."

She pulls his pants off, and rotates them both until her back is against the opposite wall. He steps out of his boxers and she wraps her leg around his waist. "Have yourself…" she begins, singing slightly off-key. "…a merry little Christmas…" He pushes himself into her, and she groans low in her throat.

"Let your heart be light…" She clutches his shoulders as he moves, digging her nails into him as he digs into her. She scratches his back when she comes, breathing rapidly. She collapses on the floor with a soft giggle, and he brings a comforter with him, throwing it over the both of them. She snuggles against him and it feels right. He throws an arm over her, and she burrows her head into the crook of his shoulder, and they both fall asleep.

She wakes up three hours later, a bit jarred and confused as to her surroundings.

_There's a light at each end of this tunnel, you shout_  
'_Coz you're just as far in as you'll ever be out  
And these mistakes you made, you'll just make them again  
If you only try turning around_

She turns back to look at him one last time, before she shuts the bathroom door quietly. She goes back to her dorm, and picks up the telephone, dialing the number she memorized.

"Derek? Hi, it's Addison. I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am…"

**Track 02: Citadel**

_And I'm breaking on the balcony…  
Breakin' window panes  
Killing the pain of broken hearts_

Derek calls him that day, and gives him the exciting news. He and Addison are engaged. As the best friend, he gives Derek a few remarks of happiness (because he truly is happy for Derek), a few jibes about commitment (because it's _him_), and a few hopes for the future (even though he really wishes Addison was his). Now that he hung up with Derek, he feels lost. He did the obligatory thing, spoke the obligatory things, had the obligatory conversation. He'll probably be the best man.

He just can't help thinking that he's been screwed over by karma, big time. That Addison has to have some sort of feelings for him, because she wouldn't sleep with him otherwise. It's just that the selfish Addison, the Addison that he's sure a part of him admires, wants to have the picture perfect wedding. She wants her knight in shining armor, her big pastry puff of a dress, a guest list in the millions. She wants the whole thing, and he's not sure if he fits into that picture. He wouldn't exactly be the picture perfect fiancé, and that's what she wants.

At the same time, he's not sure why he's so angry. He could be with people, screwing some nameless blonde, or down in the gym, hitting something that doesn't make him bleed. A part of him thinks that he needs this. He's a surgeon. Well, he wants to be. And he needs this show of blood, this piece of his life to show him that life goes on. Blood still drips. His heart still pumps. Just because Addison fucking Forbes Montgomery wants to sling Shepherd onto the end of that tongue twister doesn't mean that he stops living. No, it should mean the opposite. A part of him thinks it's fear. A part of him thinks it's true love. A part of him tells the other two parts to shut the fuck up.

He should be doing this artistically, he thinks. Like Bogie. In an empty bar somewhere, downing drinks, smoking a cigarette, lamenting lost loves that won't stay lost. On cue, Addison strolls up to the rooftop. "I thought I'd find you here," she murmurs. Because it's Addison Forbes Montgomery (soon to be) Shepherd and she's a fucking genius psychic engaged to a brain surgeon. Oh, think of the babies. He chooses not to respond to her. "Mark…"

"I heard," he replies, the words dripping from his mouth with disdainful spite. He's not even sure why he's talking to her like this.

"Yeah," she murmurs. "We're really excited." It's not like it matters anyway. Addison is oblivious to everyone else when she's in one of these good moods. It's not that he's resentful at her (though, if he's honest, a part of her is for ignoring what could have happened between them). She deserves to be happy. This is, after all, her big fucking dream. He'll probably attend their housewarming party when they get their first house, a birthday party (for the future kids and the future dog), and a party when they decide to move out into the suburbs of Jersey.

"Good," he says. "You should be. It's not every day that you get engaged to a brain surgeon." He wonders when he got so sarcastic about his best friends. He softens a bit and turns to look at her. "Congratulations. I mean it, Addison."

She smiles at him, her eyes brimming with tears. "Yeah." She walks over to him, and covers his hand with hers. "It feels like a big part of our lives are gone, you know? We're getting married. Pretty soon, we'll all grow up to be our parents." He shudders.

"I hope not."

Her face falls. "Oh," she says. "I'm sorry. I—I forgot. I'm such a—I didn't mean anything by it, Mark."

He smiles reassuringly at her. "It's all right. I've come to terms with it."

She looks down at his hand. "You're bleeding."

"It's nothing too bad." He laughs. "And leave it up to Dr. Addison Forbes Montgomery-Shepherd to spot the obvious." He figures that if he says her name enough, it'll stifle the hurt he feels. As long as he adds Shepherd to the end of her name, he'll always be reminded that she's not his to admire. She blushes.

"We're not married yet."

"Might as well be. Engaged is just as good as married," he remarks, bluntly.

"Nuh-uh," she replies, childishly.

"Only in sappy chick flick movies do brides leave the altar to be with the leading man," he says with a roll of the eyes.

"Come on," she says, tugging at his arm.

"Where are we going?"

"Well, Mark, I'm going to introduce you to my good friend, Mr. Suture Kit."

"Tell Mr. Suture Kit to fuck off. I'll be fine."

"Mark…"

"Addison…" He doesn't want to turn her away but he can't stand doing the same old best friend thing with her anymore. Their relationship changed, and he's willing to acknowledge that, but she's so eager to backpedal, to revert to what they were. He doesn't believe in devolution. She links her hand with Derek's, and smiles at him. It's such a weird relationship. "It's all right. I'm fine."

"Mark, seriously. Just come on. I have one in my dorm."

He cracks a grin at her. "If you wanted me in your room, all you had to do was say so."

She laughs, and pulls him with her. "Come on, Casanova." It almost feels like old times. But nothing will feel the same ever again.

I'm holding on to something 

_It's keeping me from jumping  
I'm so afraid to go it alone  
I'm holding up this fortress  
With imaginary forces  
Longing for a life down below_

**Track 03: Paper Bag**

_But someday we'll all be old  
And I'll be so damn beautiful_

She stares at her reflection in the mirror. Her mother is crying, and all she's doing is sitting at the hairdresser's at an ungodly time in the morning. She listens to her hair, shellacked to death with so much hair spray, sizzle as the stylist presses it against the curling iron. She listens to it sizzle. _This is the sound of your life, Addison_, she thinks. _This is the sound of a future with someone for the rest of your life. _

She steps into the white dress that she bought so long ago. Her mother helps her with it, and she stares at her reflection in the mirror. It seems so surreal. The hairdresser helps her mother with the veil, and they eventually pin it into place. She pulls the veil over her face. Sometimes, she still feels like a little girl playing dress-up with her mother's clothing.

Her mother twitters about like a hummingbird. This is it. This is her mother's element. Not those society benefits, the galas. No, this is where her mother is most at home. "Something old," her mother mutters, handing her a pair of earrings. "Something new," she points to the outfit. "Something borrowed," and she fishes out a necklace. "That's from your aunt, and she wants you to be careful with it. She says if you lose it or if something happens to it, she'll kill us both."

"What about something blue, mom?" Her voice comes from out of nowhere, and she doesn't even know why she's indulging this tradition. She figures if she pacifies her mother enough with old wedding traditions, then she won't notice how her mother thinks she chose the wrong career. She'll be a doctor, though, even if she has to go against her entire family.

"Something blue? Right, honey. Something blue…" Like the vague industrial humming of machines, her mother's heels click in tune with her humming. "Aha!" You'd think her mother had just made a Nobel Prize-winning discovery or something. No, just some blue lace.

"Mom, it looks like a doily."

"Stick it under your foot."

"What?"

Her mother pries her heel off of her foot and tucks the lace in there. She slips her shoe back on and it feels stranger than before. "Mom, you're crazy. It's just a tradition." Her mother huffs in self-importance. There's a soft knock at the door. "Who is it?"

"It's not the groom, is it?" her mother chirps. "Because that's bad luck!"

"No," she hears. "It's the best man."

"Oh," her mother sighs, deflating. "All right then." Mark enters, looking absolutely amazing. She knows that she's about to be married, but she can't help herself. She rakes her eyes over him one last time.

"Addison," he says, expelling a breath loudly. "You look…beautiful." She looks at the gaze in his eyes, the dimmed fire flickering in them, and she blushes.

"Thanks." She laughs, and gives a half-hearted little twirl. "It took a lot of work though. I'm sure my hair's been grilled to death."

"No, you look—you look perfect," he says with a tone of finality. Her eyes follow up to his, and she shudders at the openly raw look of amazement in them. She turns her gaze away from him. "Besides, dead hair is nothing a hot oil treatment wouldn't cure." She flicks her head back towards him in a look of amazement.

"Well, I, um, I had a girlfriend. Megan. She used to use that shit—"

"Language, young man!" Addison blushes at the way her mother berates him.

"Oh, well, uh, she used to use that on her hair about twice a week. She said it helped hydrate or nourish her hair or something."

"Oh."

"Yeah, so I mean…I figure…but…um…"

"Mark?"

"Yeah?" He shuffles his feet nervously on the floor.

"What is it?" She pauses. "Why are you so nervous?"

"I—just…you and Derek are getting married today. My two best friends." She smiles at him, positively beaming, and he feels his heart crack. It only lasts for so long with super glue.

Cause if I can't see you, then you can't see me And it'll be okay 

Addison doesn't remember seeing Mark at the reception. Not really. She had shrugged it off. Maybe he'd gone off with a bridesmaid somewhere to have his own little reception. She'd asked Derek and he just brushed it off. So she danced with Derek, tucking her head into the crook of his shoulder, and thinking that it didn't feel just right.

_Got to keep my cheating strategy  
And baby I'm going to have it made._

It seems childish, but he hides in the stairwell for a little while. He sits on the stairs by himself, in absolute silence, says nothing, does nothing, and tries not to provoke any sound. He likes to place his hand flat against his chest, to feel the beats of his heart, to feel it pulse beneath him. So he clenches his jaw and walks back out into the reception. He spies a tipsy bridesmaid.

He flashes her the trademark grin. "Hi," he says, a teasing lilt in his voice. "I'm Mark. Who are you?"

She smiles back. "I remember you. You're the best man." He cringes, but she's too drunk to notice. "I'm Misty," she giggles. "Misty is short for Mysterious." He kisses her and tells her not to talk. She giggles.

Because his life should just consist of kissing drunk blonde girls who speak with squeaky voices and probably wouldn't be able to tell him the names of all fifty states. He leads her away.

**Track 04: Wreck of the Day**

_Driving away from the wreck of the day  
And the light's always red in the rearview  
Desperately close to a coffin of hope  
I'd cheat destiny just to be near you_

Addison collapses into a chair beside him, and Derek is still jotting down notes of some kind. "Mark, I don't think I've ever been so exhausted in my life." She lets her head fall against his shoulder and he tries not think about the one time they had sex, when she and Derek had temporarily broken up. She places her hand on top of his, and all he can stare at are her diamonds. The rings on her hand that tell him that she's not his to have.

"I don't think Mark's conscious enough to actually process what you're saying, Add," Derek teases. She laughs and pokes him in the chest. He turns to her with a grin. "Back off, Mark. That's a married woman."

They're still in the early stages of bliss, he thinks. He's been with married women before and that's always the same story. There's a stage of bliss, a stage of arguing, and a stage of just sheer exhaustion. It's always the women that try, they told him. It's always the women that fight for it. In the end, you just give up because there's nothing to fight for. If he married Addison, he doesn't think that'd be the case. But he's not married to her, so he tries not to consider those scenarios. He likes to be comforted by the fact that maybe, somewhere, in an alternate universe of some kind, he's married to her and they're living in the suburbs of Jersey.

"Mark, are you even awake?"

"Guys," he starts, heaving himself to his feet. "My shift is done, and I think it's time I go home." Derek looks at Addison apologetically.

"Derek," she says, her tone illuminating the level of her frustration.

"I just have some charts to finish, Add," he says. "It's nothing major. Look, if I'm really serious about being a brain surgeon, as Mark so eloquently puts it, then I really have to commit to it and show them that I'm serious."

"All right," she acquiesces, with a sigh. "I'm too tired to cook. Do you want pizza?" He murmurs something in approval. She turns to him. "Mark, since Derek won't be home for a while, you want to come over for a bit?"

Derek turns. "Oh, I see how it is," Derek teases. "You like Mark's company more than mine." She sticks her tongue out at him.

"It's not my fault you enjoy the company of charts better than people. Come on, Mark," she says, and tugs him out the door. "What train are we taking, Mark?" He doesn't say anything, just swipes her card for her, and leads her until they stop back at her apartment. Her apartment with Derek. "Mark, you are so smart."

When they get up to the actual apartment, she turns on the TV and calls a pizza place. She plops down on the bed and lays on her back, staring at the ceiling. "Sometimes, I wonder if it's worth it to become a doctor."

"Of course it's worth it to be a doctor," he replies. He opts to sit on the floor.

"I know. But I just like to wonder."

When Derek comes home, Addison leads him to the kitchen. Mark's still sitting in the bedroom, but if his memory serves as any reminder, Addison tends to be very vocal. It's not like he's deaf. He can hear her soft laughter. He wonders if the pinpricks of pain in his heart serve as any warning for the karmic hell he's going to receive in the future.

_'Cause love doesn't hurt, so I know I'm not falling in love  
I'm just falling to pieces_

He heaves himself to his feet and heads towards the door. Derek is the first to say something. "Where are you going, Mark? It's fine. Stay and have some pizza." Addison voices her agreement.

"No, it's fine. I should get home."

Addison strides over towards him and looks him in the eye. "You sure?" Their lips are so close, he thinks. So close. All he'd have to do is close the distance.

"Yeah," he says, hoarsely. "I'm sure." He grabs his coat and heads towards the door.

"You know, Mark," she says, softly. "You're welcome here anytime." She stands on her toes, and goes to kiss him on the cheek. He ignores the twisting pain in his heart and just settles for a simple nod.

_ And maybe I'm not up for being a victim of love  
When all my resistance will never be distance enough_

"See you later," he says, as Addison retreats towards the kitchen. He walks the whatever many blocks it is to his own apartment because he needs to hear the pulse of the city. He counts his steps, and hears the loud thumping of his blood in his temples and heart. He doesn't even know why he does this to himself. When did he fall in love with her in the first place, and what the fuck was he thinking?

Breathing in the chill air, he pauses, casting a glance at the busy street. He guesses it would've been callous of him to end his friendship with Addison just after she got married. It wouldn't make sense either. He extends an arm, and a yellow taxi slows. He sits in the cab and tells the driver his address.

_Driving away from the wreck of the day  
And it's finally quiet in my head  
Driving alone, finally, on my way home  
To the comfort of my bed._

He sighs and stares out the window. He wonders when he became so moody all the time.

_And if this is giving up, then I'm giving up  
If this is giving up, then I'm giving up  
Giving up on love  
On love_

**Track 05: Satellite**

_I, the candid castaway  
In a way delayed  
By one more broken season  
To find reason for appeasing you_

She stands in the kitchen, stirring the spaghetti sauce with a wooden spoon. The clock ticks noisily and she checks her watch. He's late. Again. Which shouldn't surprise her at all. She picks up the phone and dials his number.

"What do you want, Addison?" He never calls her Add anymore. It's just Addison. So formal. So cold. They've regressed back to the first day they met. Even then, he seemed more flirtatious.

"Where are you?"

"I'm at the hospital."

"Obviously," she says, her hurt showing through her sarcasm. "What are you doing?"

"Well, I'm a surgeon. And surgeons do this thing called surgery."

"I get it, Derek." She practically yells at him. "When are you going to be home? I thought you said you were going to come home for dinner tonight."

"I said I was going to try and make it to dinner tonight. I didn't say I would."

"Derek, I haven't seen you in days."

"That's not my fault."

"Derek."

"Addison, you could make an effort to see me at the hospital."

"Derek," she says, gritting her teeth. "I am making an effort. There is spaghetti sauce simmering on the stove right now. There are plates. And candles. The table's set. I look pretty. I'm wearing lacy underwear. Everything is set. Except for you. You're not here."

"Look," he says, resigned, with a sigh. "I'll send Mark over. How's that?"

"I'm not married to Mark, Derek."

"I know you're not."

"All right. Fine. At least _someone _will eat my food besides me." He doesn't say anything. "Mark's not going to enjoy the lacy underwear."

"And Mark better not enjoy the lacy underwear. It's not as if we're married or anything."

"Derek…" He hangs up on her. Half an hour later, there's a knock at her door. She opens the door, looking crestfallen.

"I'll pretend not to be so hurt," he says, clutching his chest.

"I'm sorry, Mark," she replies. "I don't mean to be a bitch."

"I know. I'm not Derek," he says.

"You're not Derek," she echoes.

_A lonely song of freedom rings  
In hopes of someone listening_

They eat in relative silence, just the clinking of silverware against plates. He looks at her at one point when she's not noticing, and he bites down on his meatball to prevent from saying something inappropriate. He wonders how Derek can just subsist at the hospital with his patients and the bad hospital food when he has a wife, a talented, intelligent wife, who's dressed so beautifully, and who actually makes him handmade food. He'd be so lucky.

"Addison," he whispers. He doesn't get a response. "Addie?" She looks up at him, tears in her eyes, and he wants to hit Derek for doing this to her.

"Mark, I—I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so…emotional."

"It's all right. I just wanted to tell you that the spaghetti's amazing." She rolls her eyes. "No, seriously."

"Okay," she says, skeptically.

"And you—you look amazing." She blushes.

After dinner, she collects the dishes and places them in the sink. She pops a DVD in the DVD player and asks him to watch it with her. They sit on the sofa, and she watches the movie in captivated interest. Halfway through, her shoulders slump and start to shake and he knows she's crying.

"Addie, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. I hate to be such an emotional burden on you…"

"You could never be a burden," he replies.

"It's just…I try so hard and Derek's never here. He's never here to see any of it. And when he does come home, either I'm at the hospital, or he just sleeps. That's all he does when he comes home. We never do anything anymore." Her words come out faster than he can process them. "Sometimes, I—I think Derek doesn't even love me anymore." Her last sentence lights a fire within him that surprises even him.

"Addison…"

"And sometimes, I have to wonder if it's me. If I'm just being too clingy and that makes him want to stop being with me…"

"No one in their right mind would _not _want to be with you." She crinkles her eyebrows at his statement briefly, in confusion, but ends up giving him a half-smile.

"Love isn't something that just comes as a bundled package," he says. "It takes a lot of work. My parents couldn't do it."

"Could you do it?" she asks.

"If I met the right person. Love is a compromise. It's not just a Prince Charming on a white horse, and then a happily ever after. That doesn't exist in the real world."

_Love might be just like me  
Jaded waiting all alone_

She crinkles her nose. "Opposed to every greeting card, every Valentine's Day commercial, and every Lifetime movie ever made."

He laughs. "Well, you weren't seriously living life off of directions from Hallmark and Lifetime, were you?"

She leans on him during the movie, her head on his shoulder. "I'm really glad you came tonight, Mark," she murmurs, fighting a bout of sleepiness. "Tonight was better. It's easier when someone else is here than when I'm by myself. I think if I was alone, I would've just spent the entire night crying in the bathroom." He strokes her hair, and she hums softly in approval.

He looks at her seriously. "There's really a lot to be said about bathrooms," he murmurs, and she blushes. "So you still remember."

"Of course I remember," she says. "How could I forget?"

"Well, I was just going off of how you acted. I thought maybe you forgot because we never talked about it. Ever. And you left that morning before I even woke up. So I just became the idiot who supposedly became too drunk to remember anything and passed out naked in the bathroom with a blanket over him."

She giggles, despite herself. "I'm sorry. Did you become the laughingstock of the dorm?" He shakes his head.

"Addison Forbes Montgomery, you really are something different."

"Shepherd," she adds softly.

"What?"

"Addison Forbes Montgomery-Shepherd." He remembers in the back of the mind his half-hearted attempt to get him to stop thinking about her. His guardrails have collapsed. So much for boundaries.

_And so I send my feeble flare  
Through the silent arctic air_

He places an arm over her shoulders and she snuggles into him. He thinks this feels right.

_I'm drowning and I can't save me  
Send some salvation_

**Track 06: Forever Love (Digame)**

_I got a vision of your face  
And I must get me out  
For so many memories we've yet to make_

She's at home with Mark on another Friday night because Derek has surgeries to catch up on at work. _Because he's missed so many_, she thinks with a roll of the eyes. Mark ate her lasagna and is watching sappy chick flicks with her now. "Why are you subjecting me to this torture?" he asks.

"Because Derek dispatched you here. Besides, it's raining."

"What does rain have to do with watching movies?"

"Rain is depressing."

"Like these movies."

"And the plastic surgeon catches on." She gets up and pops a new DVD in. He hands her some chocolates. "You got me chocolates?" He nods. She bites into one and groans. "Good boy." Except now Mark is staring at her funny.

He clears his throat. "What are we watching now?"

"Pride and Prejudice." He throws his head back against the sofa.

"Oh, for God's sake."

"Trust me, I'll bet you haven't seen this one before."

"Oh, yeah?"

"1940 version."

"I didn't know you were into classic movies."

"I'm not," she says. "Not really. I just—I really like the story and I think this is the best version. I think witty women deserve equally witty men who may or may not be rich but are excessively handsome and can treat them well." She nods and pops another chocolate. "And this has nothing to do with my alcohol level or how depressed I am."

He looks at her during the movie, and she turns to him, a bemused smile on her face. "What? Do I have something on my face?"

"Well," he says, matter-of-factly. "You've got a nose, and some lips." Upon his comment, she snares one between her teeth and chews nervously.

"Mark."

"Addison."

"What's happening?" Her breath hitches in her throat when he starts to move closer. And she moves towards him. _Oh_, she thinks. _I'm only asking for trouble._

"Nothing's happening," he whispers. His lips are so close to her lips. "Why don't you start singing Christmas carols again?"

"I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus," she sings. "Under the mistletoe last night…"

_When you smile  
With those eyes  
Baby, it's like you put a finger on my heart_

He closes the distance between them and kisses her softly. She pulls apart only to kiss him again, harder, her tongue snaking past his lips to swipe against his mouth. "Rockin' around the Christmas tree," he sings in retaliation. She hums, her lips against his skin. "Mistletoe hung where you can see…" He punctuates the end of the song with a kiss. She kisses him back, pulling his shirt up fervently.

He scoops her up into his arm and carries her into the bedroom. "Santa baby," she sings, seductively, as his fingers dart down her blouse, undoing buttons and slowly undoing her. "Just slip a sable under the tree…for me…" He kisses her again, on her lips, her neck. She fumbles with the button on his jeans.

"I'll be home for Christmas," he sings as he undoes her bra. "You can count on me." She gasps and arches her back when he swipes at her breast with his tongue, her hand in his hair. He briefly pulls away to give her a full kiss on the lips. He pulls off her panties, and she divests him of his boxers.

"Please," she whispers.

"That's not a Christmas song," he murmurs, as he pushes into her in one fluid motion. She gasps and arches her back again, his lips on hers as he begins to move.

"Jolly Old Saint Nicholas," she sings, brokenly, her words interrupted by gasps. "Lean your ear this way."

He pushes against her, delightful friction teasing her senses. "Oh, come all ye faithful," he sings, and she laughs. He moves faster and faster and her breath hitches in her throat, her leg wrapped around his waist. "Joyful and triumphant."

"We wish you a merry Christmas," she murmurs, as she spasms beneath him. He collapses on top of her soon after, and that's when she sees it.

The shadow lingering near the doorway, the one that doesn't move. She can barely see the clenching of his jaw in the dim light. "Is this what you both do when I'm not here?" he whispers, his rage evident. She grabs her panties and a t-shirt and quickly fling them both on. "You sing Christmas carols and fuck each other? In our bedroom, Addison?"

Mark gets up, pulls his boxers on, and heads towards him. "Derek, you don't—" She hears the sound of bone meeting bone when Derek punches him. Soon after, she hears the front door click shut.

"Derek," she whispers. "Derek, please!"

**Track 07: In the Rough**

_You say you fell while holding diamonds in your hand_  
"_It's your fault for running, holding diamonds," I said  
And I offer no sympathy for that_

"Derek," she cries, tears streaming down her face. He's functioning on autopilot, reacting to his surroundings and to her actions without actually acting. "Derek, please!" He grabs her clothes together and he vaguely hears her voice in the back of his head. _Derek, please, it was a one-time thing. Derek! _He can't stand to hear her anymore, to listen to her excuses. She fucked his best friend. And that's inexcusable. _Derek, Derek, what are you doing with my clothes? _He tosses them outside, the rain beating down against the walls and the roof as hard as his blood is pounding in his body.

And all the times he sent Mark here to keep Addison company while he was working, all those times, and they were fucking behind his back. He didn't mean to be so cold. It gradually happened. At least he hadn't cheated on her. He hadn't—he couldn't even stomach the thought of staying here one night longer. He locks her out of the apartment and he hears the rain, he hears the thunder, like the storm of his emotions inside of him. She pounds against the door and her sobs overtake her. He opens the door, and she's in front of him, she's there, and she's so grateful that it actually makes him sick. All he can hear are their wedding vows in his head.

_I, Addison Forbes Montgomery, do promise to love, honor, and obey…_

He can't get it out of his head. He can't stay here any longer. He feels claustrophobic, surrounded by her and her things and their things. There is no more "their." They're over. And no matter how many times she tries to spin the truth, no matter how many times she tries to apologize, he knows there's no way they're going to get past this. _Love was supposed to be enough_, he thinks. _Love was supposed to be enough for both of us. When did love suddenly become not enough? _He knows he's thinking in circles, but he can't help it. "I'll leave," he murmurs, and he can hear her. She's sobbing and she's so apologetic, but he can't help it. He can't stand being near her another second.

He hails a taxi and drives to a hotel, where he has a chance to collect his thoughts. He eventually finds out that there's an opening for a neurosurgeon in Seattle. _Across the country isn't far enough_, he thinks. He takes the position, and decides to fly out there immediately. He can't even check his voicemail anymore because all the messages are from her. He can't stand to think of her in terms of anything but pronouns anymore.

_I got your love letters  
I threw them all away _

He arrives in Seattle and the first thing he sees is a ferry slowly traipsing its way across the water. "Ferryboats," he murmurs to himself. This is a sign, he thinks. This is symbolic of his trek across the country. This is symbolic of his fight against her, against everything she represented, against the whole institution of love.

_Someday, love will find me in the rough  
Someday, love will finally be enough_

He bumps into a woman on the ferry. She drops her things and he helps her pick them up. "Derek Shepherd," he says. Her name is Meredith Grey.

**Track 08: In My Head**

_Under the weight of your wings  
You are a god and whatever I want you to be  
And I wonder if truly you are  
Nearly as beautiful as I believe_

She bangs on his door at two a.m. and he wonders if they're just pawns in a variable retesting of the "history repeats itself" hypothesis. Her eyes are red, cheeks streaked with the stains of tears. "Mark," she cries, "Mark, please. Please don't kick me out." Instead, he says nothing, and welcomes her into his arms.

"Addison, what—what happened?" She brings a hand up to caress his face, noting the slight difference in texture at the spot where Derek punched him.

"Are—are you okay?" Her thin fingers trail over his skin, checking for any more injuries. He notes her disheveled appearance, and the stringy look of her hair. "You're not hurt anywhere else, are you?"

He gives a half-smile. "No, Dr. Addison, I'm fine. What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Did you—" He pauses in shock. "Addison, did you _walk _here?"

She blushes, and merely displays her feet. "Yeah. In stilettos, too."

"Addison, what were you thinking?" He reacts without thought, and instead, with anger. She cowers. "You—you could've been hurt. It's two in the morning." She catapults herself onto him, grabbing a fistful of his shirt in desperation.

"Please, Mark, please don't leave me. Please don't make me leave. Please…" Her sentence is interrupted by sobs, and he can feel the warm wetness soak through his shirt. He brings a hand to rub her back.

"Addie, what—what happened?"

"P-please, Mark," she stumbles, "Just let me stay here tonight without any questions." He nods his approval and she heads a bit further into his apartment, toeing off her shoes and setting them neatly by the door. Embarrassed, she turns to look at him. "Where, uh, where's your bathroom?"

He smiles at her and points down a hallway. "First door to the left." She heads towards the bathroom. "And the blow dryer's in the bottom drawer." She laughs and shuts the bathroom door. He hears the muffled sound of the shower running.

Returning to his bedroom, he fishes out a t-shirt and a pair of shorts. He knocks on the bathroom door. "Y-yeah?" Her voice shakes and he knows she's been crying. He opens the door and sets the clothing on the counter.

"Addison, are you okay?"

"Y-yeah," she says with a sniffle. "I-I'll be fine."

"Promise?"

He hears her soft chuckle. "Yeah. I, uh, I promise." He shuts the bathroom door behind him with a click.

She emerges twenty minutes later, hair blow-dried to perfection, toes pink. He sits down on the sofa and she joins him. "Are you…" He pauses, trying to think of the proper words. "Addison, I don't mean to press you, but are you…ever going to tell me what happened tonight?"

She murmurs something and looks up at him, her eyes red. "Yeah," she whispers. "Maybe not tonight. But…when I'm ready." He nods, and brushes a thumb across her cheek.

"It's all right, Addie. It'll be all right." He turns on the TV, and pulls her towards him, settling her against him. "But for now…"

"For now?" She looks up at him with the wistful confusion of a child, he thinks. He presses two buttons on the remote, and the channel changes. She crinkles her nose. He heads into the kitchen. "Mark, what is this?"

"It's to cheer you up," he comments, above the sound of clinking pots and pans.

"What's to cheer me up?" In her confusion, she unfurls her legs, stretching out on his sofa lazily, like a cat. Ten minutes later, and he emerges, presenting her with a steaming mug, and a bowl of something.

"That's cocoa," he murmurs. "Because you hate rain." She looks at him, and smiles her gratitude. She tries to forget the fact that Derek never would've remembered anything like that. _Not that Derek's around anymore_, she thinks.

"Mmhmm?" She murmurs, trying to stifle the tears that are beginning to emerge.

"This is a bowl of popcorn," he says, placing the bowl on the table in front of the sofa. "And," he says, with a flourish, as he sits down on the floor, "_this _is what ordinary people like to call an ER marathon."

"And what are we doing?"

"We are going to sit here, eat the popcorn, drink the cocoa, and make fun of its alleged medical prowess."

"We're going to sit here, eat unhealthy food, and make fun of the doctors on TV?"

He grins at her. "Precisely."

She crinkles her nose as a stray term flies from the television and lands in her ear. "He didn't even pronounce that right," she says.

"No, he didn't," he agrees.

"And how is this supposed to help my mood?" A smile tugs at the corners of her lips, despite herself.

"Trust me," he says, grabbing a small handful of popcorn. "Making fun of the doctors on TV does wonders for your mood."

Her one-night stay gradually transforms into an indefinite stay, and her things begin to gradually transition. Her clothes begin to appear in his closet, the shoes neatly placed. He starts to wonder if the living arrangement could be permanent. She even starts to sleep in his bed with him.

They both go to work, she comes home, and he comes home later, they eat dinner, and do general husband-and-wife things. Except they're not married. Technically speaking, he's her mistress. Or something like that.

One day, he comes home to find Addison in the bathroom, a box of do-it-yourself hair dye on the counter. "Addison," he says. "What is this?" He watches as she turns on the showerhead, and rinses her hair. Finished, she grabs the towel lying next to her and dries it. She flips her head and lets him see her handiwork. He gapes at her.

"What?" she asks. "I needed a change."

"Addison, you're—you're…" He can't even say it. This is a form of sacrilege in some country somewhere, he thinks. "What are you thinking?"

"I needed a change," she says, slower this time.

"But you're _blonde_."

"I know." She stands and pushes him out of the way to observe herself in the mirror. She gawks for a few seconds. "Oh my God, I'm _blonde_."

"I know," he echoes. He picks up the phone, and dials the number on the box, ignoring the sound of her retreating steps. "Hello? Yes. How long should you wait before re-dying your hair?"

He walks toward the bedroom, and knocks on the shut door. "Addison? We need to talk." Somewhere in the back of his mind, he's wondering when he came the father in a sitcom. He opens the door and steps into the room, taking a seat beside her.

"I know," she groans. "We should dye it back."

"That's not what I wanted to talk to you about," he says, softly. "I wanted to talk to you about this when I got home, but I got…" He pauses to finger a strand of her newly dyed hair. "…distracted." She cringes.

"So what is it you wanted to talk to me about?"

"Well…you've stayed here a long time," he starts, before she interrupts him.

"If it's about rent, I can pay for half. I'm sorry if I'm wearing out my welcome." He shakes his head at her.

"No, no, it's nothing like that."

"What is it, then?"

"While you've stayed here, I mean, we've talked, and…" He pauses, wondering why he feels so awkward. "…we've had sex a few times." She nods, blushing. "I guess, what I'm wondering is…" _Would you want to go steady with me?_, his inner monologue obviously feels a large amount of contempt for him. "Would you want to…make this…a…real relationship? Not that this _isn't _a real relationship, it's just—" He pauses. "Okay. I'm going to stop while I'm ahead and leave you with that jumbled mess."

"You mean like a boyfriend-girlfriend situation?" she asks. She wonders when they reverted back to high school terminology, and when she suddenly became the character of the slut who cheated on her boyfriend with the best friend.

"Yeah."

"Well, I—I don't know if I'm _ready _to commit to that—to commit to something serious…right away…but it would be something, I, um, I'd be interested in," she mumbles. "If that makes sense." He smiles at her, and she smiles back, and he leans in to kiss her, soft and sweet.

"Well, uh, we'll take it slow," he murmurs.

"Mm-hmm," she replies.

"Now," he says, glancing her over, "about this hair situation." She blushes, and hangs her head. He smiles at her. "Don't worry about it." He fumbles around for a second, looking for something. "Where's the cordless?"

"It's on the base in the hallway."

"Oh," he murmurs, jumping to his feet. "Don't worry," he says, winking at her. "You'll be back to your old vain self in no time."

"I am not vain," she says, feigning offense. He casts her a pointed look. "I just _care _about my appearance. That's all."

"And that in no way resembles vanity at all?" She shakes her head, and he laughs. "Just hang on a second." He runs out into the hallway and picks up the cordless. She follows him, curiosity piqued. "Nick? Yeah, I know what time it is. No, I just—I need to call in a favor." Half an hour later, and she's in some half-lit hair salon. A man stands there, arms folded, foot tapping impatiently against the floor.

"Well, well, well," the man says. "Mark Sloan. Calling me in here for an emergency operation." The man smirks, and Mark goes up to hug him.

"Nick," he says. "Once you see it, you'll obviously understand." He hands the man a picture of Addison, and then he pushes Addison towards him.

"Oh," Nick murmurs, in a wave of shock. "Honey, you're _blonde_." She nods, embarrassed. "But, honey, _why_?"

"I needed a change," she admits glumly.

"Oh, boyfriend problems?" he murmurs, as he pushes her down in a chair. She nods. "Oh, well, don't worry about it. Ol' Nick will fix you up here in no time. Get you back to that wonderful color." As he moves away to fetch something, he points to her and makes a face at Mark.

"My old color?" Her voice is inflated with hope.

"And I can't believe you used that cheap brand," he murmurs, clucking. "Trust me, honey. Never go off of commercials."

"How do you—"

"Trust me, honey," he says. "I've seen enough of those to spot brands just by the damage it does to your scalp." She sinks lower into the chair. "Don't worry. It's fixable." And with that, he gets to work.

"So, Mark," she says, casually. "How is it that you know a hairdresser who's willing to do this after closing hours?"

"Well, let me tell _you_," Nick starts when Mark clears his throat.

"We made a deal," he says, warning.

"Oh, yes. I'm never supposed to talk about that again." Nick winks at her. "Let me just say this. It involved Mark's vanity, some hair dye, some cute boys, and…"

"Nick!"

"Hair dye and Mark's vanity?" she murmurs. "He's such a woman." Nick laughs, but boisterously agrees.

"Hey!" he replies. "I am secure enough in my masculinity to say that I am not a woman, thank you very much."

"You are _so _a woman," Addison replies, laughing.

"Sorry, babe, but it's true," Nick adds. "Might as well own up to it now."

An hour and a half later, Addison emerges, hair back to normal, chattering with Nick. She gives him a hug and he smiles at her. "Honey, never, ever, ever dye your hair again," he tells her. "Ever. Your hair is beautiful, and if you ever do-it-yourself dye it again, I'm not going to save it. I'm going to have to let you live with it." She laughs and gives him another hug, promising never to dye it ever again.

They return to his apartment and she launches herself into his arms again, kissing his neck. "Thank you so much," she murmurs, "for everything." He smiles at her.

"For what?"

She kisses him deeply, her tongue stealing past his lips. "For letting me stay here, for giving me half of your closet space, for fixing my hair," she murmurs softly, as she unbuttons his shirt. "For waiting."

That night, she lies in bed, staring at the ceiling, and thinks this could be love.

_I will pretend I know not of your thoughts  
And even the way that they mirror my own_

**Track 09: Bleed**

She wanders aimlessly around New York. She wonders if this is how Derek felt when he found them together. This is her just punishment, she thinks. Karma had too much to do, but she finally caught up with her. This is what you deserve, Addison Forbes Montgomery-Shepherd, she thinks.

A nurse. She was replaced by a nurse. That shouldn't come as any surprise, she thinks. Old habits are hard to break. Or was it bad habits? She doesn't remember, and she doesn't care. It was Mark's habit to sleep with nurses, and he certainly didn't relinquish that habit. She thought that maybe love would've been enough. She places a hand on her stomach. He wouldn't make a good father either. Or maybe that's just the jealousy talking.

_When I finally realized it was over  
And I knew that love wasn't good enough of a reason  
For me to stay_

She gets a call from Richard Webber the next day. It's for a professional consult, but it's in Seattle. _Seattle isn't far enough away_, she thinks. So she accepts it. She decides not to tell him. He's been calling her nonstop since she caught them, but she doesn't care. She just needs to go back to his apartment, pack all of her things into one bag, and fly over. And leave. Leave him. Leave New York. Leave her past. And there was also the issue of Derek being there.

She wonders when she became so passive. What happened to the Addison from college? Shark Addison? That would have torn anyone apart who dared to fuck with her? What happened to her? She wonders when she simply became so accepting of everything. She wanders aimlessly around Washington Square Park. It's raining, and people are skirting under awnings and buildings, but she simply sits in the middle of the park, letting it all come down like the torrents of emotions she seems to be unable to conjure.

Her cell phone rings. "Hello?"

'_Cause I am not a force to be reckoned with  
And you don't have a clue what you're messing with_

"Addison, please, come home."

"Mark," she says. "What a surprise." The water trickles down her face. It's a torrential rainstorm, just like the night that Derek left her. The rain seems to come when everyone's about to leave.

"Addison, where are you?"

She laughs. "It's not where I am that matters. The question is, where are you? And specifically, whose bed are you in?" The cold of the rain makes her feel so candid. Acid rain strips everything bare. Including her.

"Addison," he says, sounding aggravated. "Come home."

"Did you know," she starts, with that same matter-of-fact tone that she had when she was in college. "That I was pregnant?"

"You're pregnant?" He sounds in awe.

"No, no. I _was _pregnant. Past tense." The rain tumbles from the sky and she feels covered in it.

"Addison…"

"It was your baby, you know," she whispers. "And I'm so glad…I'm so glad that I decided not to keep it." She says the last part for spite because she can't bear to hear him sounding apologetic. She needs to hear his guilt, to feel his pain over the phone.

"Addison, what—why didn't you tell me?"

"For the exact reason that I'm not telling you where I am right now."

"What?"

"Oh, the veritable genius, Mark Sloan, can't figure out a brainteaser. Oh, are you feeling sad? Because the answers are in the back of the book."

"Addison, what are you talking about?"

"I didn't tell you about the baby because I knew that would happen." She can hear his breathing.

"What would happen?"

"Nurses." She pauses. "Interns."

"Addison, it was a one-time thing."

"No, Mark, it's not. You're just going back to your old ways. And I thought that maybe love would be enough to stop it, to stop you, but it's not. It was never enough, was it?"

"Addison, it _is _enough. Just come home."

"You were bound to attack anything with ovaries."

"Addison."

"What are you thinking, Mark?" She tastes the salt of the rainwater on her lips. "You think that if you can say my name enough times, I'll come back? I'm not a genie." She laughs, the bitter sound of it tasting sweet. "I bet that nurse was. She looks like one. What's her name? Darlene?"

He doesn't respond.

"Aw, come on, Mark. Between friends. What's her name?" He's silent. "This is just like college. Except Derek's not here to talk to you, is he? You only wanted me because you couldn't have me. Then, once you did, did the bubble burst?"

"I loved you, Addison. I still love you."

"Oh, don't throw that word around like it doesn't mean anything."

"Addison, it does mean something."

"Yeah. Sure it does."

"Addison, please, won't you come home?"

"Why?" She looks up, towards the sky, and the drops fall on her eyes, and she blinks at the stinging feeling they evoke. "What are you going to do, Mark? Make me cocoa? Blow dry my hair? Tell me to sit and make fun of ER with you? That's not going to work this time around. I'm smarter."

"You're more cynical."

"Same thing, really."

"Addison."

"Mark."

"Why won't you come home?"

"Why won't you let this go?"

"Where are you?"

"You know, this is fitting."

"What is?"

"The weather. Except now, I'm Derek, and you're me without the sobbing, and Darlene is—well, Darlene is you. You should tell her that. I'm sure she'll get a kick out of it."

"Addison."

"Except we're not married."

"You don't have to be married to care about someone."

"Oh, don't you?"

"Derek didn't care about you."

"Derek didn't cheat on me, either."

"Addison, just come home."

"Fine." She hangs up on him, and heads back towards his apartment. Instead of listening to him, she packs a suitcase and leaves that same night. She didn't even leave him a note.

_So I'm taking my heart and I'm getting me out  
And love's something that I wouldn't want to live without  
So I'm taking my heart and getting me out on my own_

She boards the plane, finding herself sitting next to a talkative elderly woman. She laments love, and the woman sympathizes. The pilot says something about how they're leaving New York. She doesn't look back.

**Track 10: Catalyst**

This whole thing is a mess, she thinks. Seattle Grace isn't big enough for the four of them. Derek and Addison and Meredith and Mark. She wonders how this all happened. It sounds like a soap opera, she thinks. Derek and Addison loved each other, except then Derek fell out of love with Addison, and Addison fell in love with Mark, who had loved her for a long time, and Derek caught them together, so he left and moved to Seattle, and Addison and Mark loved each other for a while, except then Mark cheated on her with a nurse, and then Addison left for Seattle only to find that Derek had been cheating on her with an intern named Meredith even though they were still married and then Addison called Mark and he flew across the country for some unknown reason and now the four of them are at Seattle Grace working as doctors, and trying not to think about how convoluted the entire situation is.

_Cause something here  
In the way that we're constantly moving  
Reminds you of home_

And she doesn't know which way is which. She feels something for Mark. She thought she loved him back in New York, up until the moment he cheated on her and she found herself sitting on a park bench in a torrential rainstorm. And he told her that he loved her, up until the minute she decided to leave. She thought she loved Derek until he ignored her. And she doesn't know if she should hate Meredith or not. She's being tugged in eighteen million directions, and she can't deal with any of them.

Except now, she thinks that Derek hates her.

One day, Mark pulls her into a supply closet with a smile that can only mean trouble. "What do you want?" she asks.

"Oh," he grins at her. "Do you really want to know?"

"No," she says, heading for the door.

"Wait," he says, with a serious tone. She looks at him wearily, trying to show how much he's run her down, and how much he's made her a disaster. _This is all your fault_, she thinks. "Did you tell Derek?"

"What?"

"About us." She shakes her head. "Are you going to?" She shrugs her shoulders. They could make up their own sign language, she thinks. The four of them. It would convey volumes in its awkwardness and its eagerness to avoid the subject.

She remembers how Derek punched him. Once in New York, when he caught them together. Once now, when he caught him in Seattle. She wonders when her life became so melodramatic. It could be a movie, she thinks. Probably on Lifetime. _The Life and Trials of Addison Forbes Montgomery-Shepherd. _

_You'll be the vein  
You'll be the pain  
You'll be the scar_

She shuffles out of the supply closet and runs into Meredith, who drops the file she's holding. She wonders if the entire hospital is big enough for all of them. Probably not. She thinks Meredith hates her with the fury of a thousand suns, and that's quite all right, because she could hate Meredith back.

All four of them are in the elevator one day, when it stops between floors. She sinks down to the floor and thinks about how much she owes karma. _This is your life, _she thinks. So they all sit on the floor and try not to act so…awkward. Derek mumbles something about the weather.

"It's not like I can see outside right now, Derek," Mark replies.

"Oh, well, I hadn't realized you were lacking in x-ray vision, Mark. You were always so keen on that in college."

"Derek," she and Meredith both say. This feels exceptionally strange.

"This is a little weird," Meredith says.

"Thanks, Bambi," Mark replies.

"Hey!" Derek says, but Addison giggles. He leers at her.

"What? It's funny."

"Why are you calling me that?" Bambi asks. "Besides, Bambi was a male deer."

"Thanks, Bambi," Mark replies. He talks over her to Derek. "Look, Derek, you can't say that you forgot about being an intern entirely." Derek chuckles.

"I was Ariel," Addison says. "What were you guys again?"

"Dorian," Mark says. Addison shoots him a questioning glance. "After…Dorian Gray." Bambi looks around, doe-eyed, and Addison thinks that this is what Meredith deserves. She needs to be cut out of the loop. Everyone but Bambi snickers.

"What about you, Derek?" Mark asks, pointedly. Mark knows. Addison can tell that he knows Derek's little insulting nickname, but he's provoking because that's what he does. Derek mumbles something. "What, Derek?"

"Ronald McDonald," he says.

"What?" Addison laughs. This feels like old times, she thinks.

"Don't ask," Mark and Derek say.

"So I'm Bambi?" Bambi asks.

"Yes," Addison says, with a condescending tone that is all hateful wife. "You're Bambi. Welcome to the forest." Meredith offers a shaky smile.

"Don't just attack her," Derek says.

"Oh, well, it's not like we're married or anything," she says, echoing history.

"Yes," Derek repeats. "It's not as if we're married or anything." His glance darts from her to Mark.

"Look, Derek," she starts.

"No," he says. "We were having a perfectly civil conversation. Let's just—don't bring up bad topics."

"You can't avoid it forever," she says. Mark stays silent. Bambi looks confused.

"Yes, I can."

_And I'd be inclined to be yours for the taking  
And part of this terrible mess that you're making  
But me…I'm the catalyst._

She fumbles around and reaches for his hand, but he doesn't take her hand. So she's just an idiot with her hand extended. Meredith notices it as well. "Welcome to my marriage," she tells her.

"What?" Derek asks.

"Oh, are you oblivious again?" Mark replies.

"No one was talking to you."

"You ignore her," Mark replies. "You always ignored her."

"I never—"

"Except for that first time you met her in the bar during med school," he replies, "And when you were going out."

"I don't think you have the right to talk," Derek replies.

"Please."

"Is ignoring me better or worse than cheating on me, Mark?" She turns to him and there is a challenge in her eyes.

"You cheated on her?" Derek asks.

"Please don't punch anyone," she says. "Because you've done enough punching for a lifetime. Did you guys forget that you used to be best friends?" Bambi looks as if she's just figured out that there's a hunter in the forest.

"Used to be," Derek replies.

_Do you want to, though,  
Still want to go?_

The elevator starts moving again, and oppressive silence falls.

**Track 11: Consider This**

_I've tripped again and things are starting to get interesting  
Don't give me choices 'cause I can't decide_

She chews on her lip thoughtfully, casting a glance across the room. Mark. Derek. Karev. All of them. In the same room. She can't help but think of the history. She's already so fucked up, her life has gone to pieces, so she figures, why not throw another pretty boy in there? Might as well have fun if she's already got a first-class ticket to hell.

She flashes a smile at Karev, giving him that look that's withered some men. Mark catches it and when she turns, he looks at her with the contempt that she used to give him back in New York. "Addison," he says, with that tone of finality.

"Yes?" She bats her eyelashes at him, hoping that the veneer of innocence will send him to another nurse, another intern, but he doesn't fall for it.

"Can you stop looking at and flirting with the pretty, young, male intern for a second and accompany me to the supply closet?" She quirks an eyebrow. "I'm not going to sexually attack you or anything. The switch is off." Casting him a suspicious glance, she follows him into the supply closet, bumping into the bin of suture kits.

"Look, Mark, it's my good friend, Mr. Suture Kit." She lifts one up and displays it before tossing it back in the bin.

"Tell your good friend, Suture Kit, to fuck off because this conversation is private." She shrugs her shoulders.

"What do you want?"

"You."

"Oh, when did you turn into a Hallmark cliché?"

"Come back to New York with me."

"How's about no?"

"Addison."

"Mark."

"What's the matter with you?"

"What's the matter with you? Not enough nurses willing enough to strip for you?"

"Derek has Bambi. And now…you have Dumbo."

"Hey."

"It's the truth."

"It is not."

"Look, I am the only attending to refrain from sleeping with an intern. Love or not."

"I haven't slept with an intern."

"But you're thinking about it with Dumbo."

"Stop calling him that."

"Toe the line, Addie." He turns and leaves, and she screams in frustration. Temper tantrum over, she leaves.

That day, they find out about the patient with the toxic blood. Derek and Burke are waiting for the HazMat suits to pressurize or decompress, or something, and the patient's choking on the table. Rule No. 1: Do no harm. That includes death. So she runs in there to intubate her when it hits her. She feels woozy, and tries to grab the tray for stability. She staggers towards the door, and he grabs her and pulls her back.

"I've got you," he murmurs into her hair. She has old Sonny and Cher songs stuck in her head the rest of the day.

"I've got you, babe," she murmurs.

When she wakes up, she finds herself staring at the very attractive backside of her very attractive intern. She can hear Mark's voice in her head, calling him Dumbo, and the memories of her own experiences as an intern float back to her.

He turns around and smiles at her in that way that he thinks he knows everything that she was thinking. And he may have. Because she feels high right now, and that may mean that everything she's thinking is all on her face. She has no sense of boundaries at the moment. Toxic blood and everything else. That's when it hits her like a passing bus. He's like a young Mark. Realization over, she goes back to thinking very naughty thoughts about her intern.

_I've come to terms with all my insecurities  
And purity's no friend of mine_

She's lying there, staring up at the ceiling, when Mark stops by. Why is it that ceilings always involve Mark? He smiles at her, but she doesn't say anything, see anything. "How are you feeling?" he asks.

"I'm doing okay," she replies.

"Stop staring at Dumbo?" She doesn't even ask how he knows that, but rather, just shakes it off, and moves on with life. She shrugs at him.

"No."

"I didn't think so."

"You're wonderfully psychic."

"No x-ray vision, though." She laughs. "I'm inviting you to dinner."

"Dinner?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

"At my hotel room."

"Oh," she breathes. "This can only end badly."

"What are you talking about?"

"Me. Having sex with you. Obviously."

"And?"

"That's bad."

"Why?"

"Because you're my dirty mistress, and I've decided to never see you again."

"Oh. Is that why you're chasing Dumbo around like an elephant who just saw peanuts?"

"Do elephants even like peanuts?"

"I think so." He pauses, confused. "But that's beside the point. Come on." She makes a face, like the ones she used to make at her mother whenever she was forced to go to a gala she didn't want to attend. Except no one's forcing her except Mark's charisma. If she thinks hard enough, she comes to the realization that Mark's charisma technically doesn't qualify as a person.

"Fine." He grins at her. "But, please understand, there will be no sex for you at the end of the evening."

"Saving yourself for Dumbo?"

"Shut up, Dorian. Go inhabit a painting somewhere."

"How do you remember all this?"

"Because I'm magical."

He looks at her seriously. "I got you, babe," he sings as he walks away. A memory vaguely pricks at the back of her brain, but she tries to ignore it. Obviously, remembering the reference that he's…referencing…would be a very bad idea.

Sonny and Cher, she thinks. A momentous couple that ended up divorcing. Derek and Addison. Not so much momentous. All the same divorce. Maybe they should've gone into show business, she thinks. Maybe he would've pretended to love her more.

She falls asleep thinking about Mark and about what she's going to wear to his hotel room tonight. Stilettos, she thinks. Add a bit of a traditional, historical touch on the occasion.

_You're kinda cool but I know better than to break the rules  
Of messin' with a lesson that I'll never learn_

She knocks at his door later that night, dressed in a simple black dress that makes her look hot. She's vain. She'll own up to it. And she knows how attractive she must look at this moment. He answers the door, shirtless, with sweatpants on.

"Doesn't someone look fancy," he murmurs.

"You're…underdressed," she remarks.

"Or someone's overdressed."

"Well, dinner. I assumed that meant…dinner." She knows she sounds like a broken record, but it's very hard to capture her thoughts right now when Mark is shirtless and sitting in front of her. "Where—food?"

He looks like he's trying so very hard not to laugh. "Excuse me?"

"Food. Dinner involves food, if I recall."

"Yes, it does."

"So where would this food be?"

"It's on its way up right now, your highness."

"Hey."

"What?"

"Nothing."

Dinner arrives and they eat in relative silence, though Mark, in his incorrigible stubbornness, refuses to change into something nicer. She sighs, but grabs a fork and digs into the salad all the same. The hotel food is all right. She wouldn't exactly say it's the best she's ever had, but she supposes it's the thought that counts.

Mark casts her a glance. "What?" she asks.

"You look like you're deep in thought." He pauses, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. "What are you thinking about?"

"I'm thinking about how this salad isn't the best thing I've ever had." He rolls his eyes and she shrugs. "That's the honest answer."

Once they finish dinner, the dishes get cleared away, and it's just her…in his hotel room. He tucks an errant strand behind her ear, like old times. She's in the middle of a sentence when his lips crash against hers, and she feels his hand fumbling with the zipper in the back.

_So lay your hands over me  
And feel what you only see_


End file.
